The inevitable anti-climax of the birthday week has finally passed and we have now resumed normal service. Sophie has had a few episodes, and Dylan has a cold that seems like it has come from the very depths of Siberia, but with this aside we appear to be winning. So much so, that I am writing this from about 20,000ft above the North Sea on a Swedish adventure that has actually gone ahead as planned. Similar suits surround me, reflecting the type of person that I might become if I don't do something about it. These trips are great for my own personal ambition of getting out of this life and doing something else that fits me better. Although something has just amused me, a soulless face asked the Air Steward," is there a choice?" when asked if they would like the meal. He clearly meant if there was a choice between Beef or Chicken, or something, but the Air Steward just replied, “It is either Yes, or No.” This amused me because the guy’s reaction didn’t even change; he just nodded his head and took the Beef.
Anyway, on Sunday we decided to travel to the oldest Timber-framed, moated country house in Britain, Little Moreton Hall. I thought that it would take about half an hour to get there, so I kept it a mystery to Claire whilst hilariously pretending that we were going to approximately 50 other venues along the way. Although Claire didn’t rise to any of these pretences, I thought they kept getting funnier and funnier. Eventually, it even tried my patience and when we finally turned up after an hour I started thinking, “this better be worth it.”
But surprisingly, it was beautiful. It stood alone as a quite humble, Tudor house amongst green fields and farm buildings. It was exceptionally uncomplicated around it and presented the property with a certain amount of reverence. It was built 500 years ago at the time that Elizabeth I was being crowned, and boasted one of the first examples of bay windows. There was intricate glass windows everywhere that must have given the house an amazing brightness inside compared to other houses of the era, much like the modern houses made with walls of glass. The Tudors were on it, even if they didn’t have the technology at the time.
We tried to go on a tour of the house, until Sophie thought that she clearly knew more than the guide from the National Trust and after a number of frustrated looks round from the audience, we thought it best to wander around on our own. But this allowed us to get in to the coffee shop that was actually in the house. A strange experience, having a spotted dick with custard in a room that is half a millennium old, and still being able to pay by card at the end. It makes you wander about the events that have taken place in that room alone.
This house was being built, as an example of new architecture, at the time that Shakespeare was writing Romeo and Juliet. Isn’t that incredible. We take for granted the amount of history that we have in this country compared to other places. Of course the anorak types, the National Trust lifers that seem to permeate all of these buildings, surrounded it. But I think these buildings are cool. They offer a glimpse through another life, and considering Cinemas are crammed with people experiencing that 2nd or 3rd hand, you would think that these places could be given a promotional push to a different market.
Sweden should be a few degrees colder than the UK, but pretty close. I am going to take the opportunity of visiting where I used to live and meeting up with a friend that I met when I was there. These trips are always a conflict for me between looking forward to the freedom that they offer, but conversed with the guilt I feel of leaving Claire with the kids and the anxiety that something will happen while I am away. But I did just read a quote that said, “ that this day will always be ‘twenty years ago’ one day.” It all passes. These are just moments added up together in some random fashion. And a bright one will eclipse a dark moment, because that is the way.
Anyway, on Sunday we decided to travel to the oldest Timber-framed, moated country house in Britain, Little Moreton Hall. I thought that it would take about half an hour to get there, so I kept it a mystery to Claire whilst hilariously pretending that we were going to approximately 50 other venues along the way. Although Claire didn’t rise to any of these pretences, I thought they kept getting funnier and funnier. Eventually, it even tried my patience and when we finally turned up after an hour I started thinking, “this better be worth it.”
But surprisingly, it was beautiful. It stood alone as a quite humble, Tudor house amongst green fields and farm buildings. It was exceptionally uncomplicated around it and presented the property with a certain amount of reverence. It was built 500 years ago at the time that Elizabeth I was being crowned, and boasted one of the first examples of bay windows. There was intricate glass windows everywhere that must have given the house an amazing brightness inside compared to other houses of the era, much like the modern houses made with walls of glass. The Tudors were on it, even if they didn’t have the technology at the time.
We tried to go on a tour of the house, until Sophie thought that she clearly knew more than the guide from the National Trust and after a number of frustrated looks round from the audience, we thought it best to wander around on our own. But this allowed us to get in to the coffee shop that was actually in the house. A strange experience, having a spotted dick with custard in a room that is half a millennium old, and still being able to pay by card at the end. It makes you wander about the events that have taken place in that room alone.
This house was being built, as an example of new architecture, at the time that Shakespeare was writing Romeo and Juliet. Isn’t that incredible. We take for granted the amount of history that we have in this country compared to other places. Of course the anorak types, the National Trust lifers that seem to permeate all of these buildings, surrounded it. But I think these buildings are cool. They offer a glimpse through another life, and considering Cinemas are crammed with people experiencing that 2nd or 3rd hand, you would think that these places could be given a promotional push to a different market.
Sweden should be a few degrees colder than the UK, but pretty close. I am going to take the opportunity of visiting where I used to live and meeting up with a friend that I met when I was there. These trips are always a conflict for me between looking forward to the freedom that they offer, but conversed with the guilt I feel of leaving Claire with the kids and the anxiety that something will happen while I am away. But I did just read a quote that said, “ that this day will always be ‘twenty years ago’ one day.” It all passes. These are just moments added up together in some random fashion. And a bright one will eclipse a dark moment, because that is the way.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment